


Leap Year

by castielsstarr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholic Dean, Angst, Depression, M/M, Previous Relationship, Suicidal Thoughts, a different kind of proposal fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 01:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6136606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielsstarr/pseuds/castielsstarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Dean took another swig of bourbon to wash down the burn remaining from the last one. Not that it would help, aside from causing a fresh burn to take its place."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leap Year

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for this. I also wish I could say this was entirely fiction, but that would make me a damned liar.

Dean took another swig of bourbon to wash down the burn remaining from the last one. Not that it would help, aside from causing a fresh burn to take its place. But that was what he wanted right now. He wanted the heat in his chest, wanted to feel something where right now there wasn’t. This wasn’t a permanent solution to the problem—couldn’t let it be one—but for right now, that bottle of Jack was the best fix he had.

Another healthy gulp left him spluttering as part of it got into his lungs. It hurt, the sting of 100 proof alcohol, as he tried to cough it up. It stole his breath, made him wheeze and choke, but it didn’t matter. Dean hadn’t been able to breathe long before then. This was just more of the same. Sometimes it felt like his ribcage was being crushed with bricks and others it felt like the air was being sucked from his lungs when he tried to inhale.

Settling back against the headboard, having regained as much breath as he was going to, Dean took another swallow. By his count, that was five shots in the last three minutes alone. Not including the fourth of the bottle that was already sloshing around in his stomach. It still wasn’t enough. Right now, it didn’t feel like it was _ever_ going to be enough. He took another.

In that moment, he wondered how much he would have to drink for this to kill him. He wasn’t curious enough, but he felt like it would be a happy accident if he found that point tonight. With the bottle raised in a moment of cheers—to himself, to today, to nothing in particular—he noticed the wetness on his cheeks. Didn’t have to touch it to know it was there; he could feel the difference when his eyes shifted. He paid it no mind and took another drink.

Dean turned the ring over again in his fingers, watching as the dim light from the bathroom—the only light on in the motel room—fractured through the orange stone. Bright orange. Couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. For some reason, that was Ca— _his_ favorite color. How stupid was it that it hurt to even think his name? Dean swore he had gotten over that part months ago. 

He chuckled to himself in that melancholic way he used to hear as a kid when an intoxicated John thought about Mary. It was a sound he never wanted to hear again, let alone make himself. Like father, like son. If that was the case, it was no wonder Cas had left him. Dean grimaced and put his lips back to the bottle.

When he tried to put it on, the ring only passed the first knuckle on his fourth finger, getting stuck above the second. The older man’s fingers were always skinnier than his own. Hands softer, skin less calloused. The way his fingertips would ghost over his skin while he was still sleeping. He didn’t want to remember the way they were back then.

\---

Dean lay there, not wanting to be awake yet, as Cas traced invisible lines over his face and neck. It was one of the most comforting things he’d ever felt, right next to a hug from his mom when he was younger. He let out a deep hum of content, making Cas laugh softly.

“I knew you couldn’t still be asleep.”

“I would have been if you weren’t rubbing my face.” He cracked one eye open to look at the brown-haired, blue-eyed man he’d been sharing a bed with for almost two years. Same morning scruff, same sleepy eyes, and it was a sight Dean could never tire of.

Lips slightly chapped from kissing too much the night before broke into a smile. Corners of eyes crinkled lovingly. “You like it, though.”

“Never said I didn’t.” He wrangled the other eye open and leaned in for a short kiss, which quickly devolved into a string of longer ones, neither knowing where the next one started or ended. When they finally pulled apart, both breathless and pliant, Dean whispered, “So, when are you going to propose to me?” They’d talked about marriage before, so to bring it up now, times when they were at their happiest, was commonplace.

Cas scoffed. “Me? Propose to you?” He reached over and tickled Dean’s sides, pulling him into his arms when the larger man bucked forward, foreheads touching. “Are you saying that I have to be the man in this relationship?”

“Well, aren’t you?” He fluttered his eyelashes playfully, and laughed when Cas nudged his thigh with his knee.

“Two way street. What about you?” Cas smothered his cheek in short pecks before leaning back to catch his eyes. “You could propose to me.”

“I mean, I could. But I would do something sappy and stupid, which you’d make fun of me for.”

“What would you do?”

Dean closed his eyes and thought for a minute before opening them again. Those blue eyes were piercing him through, and if he hadn’t been used to seeing them so often, they would have knocked him breathless again. “I would propose to you on the next leap year.”

“I like it. But you’d have to buy me a ring. I’m not going to accept a marriage proposal without a ring.”

“God, you’re so demanding,” Dean teased before kissing Cas deep, tongues pressing hungrily to each other.

When they finally broke apart, Cas reached between them and took Dean’s hand, holding it to his own chest. “Promise?”

“Promise what?”

“Promise that if I don’t get my shit together before then that you’ll propose to me next leap year.” His smile was so innocent, so wanting, that Dean was taken aback.

“You’re serious?”

“Absolutely.”

Dean didn’t really have to think about it. “Ok, Cas. Next leap year, two and a half years from now, I will propose to you. Ring and all.”

They stayed in bed the rest of the morning.

\---

Dean couldn’t stop staring at it even though he needed to. It was just as stunning as Cas had been before he left—a constant reminder of loss. An orange sapphire, with two small diamonds, one on either side. Beautiful and radiant, and every other synonym he could think of, which wasn’t many in his current state. He took it off and closed his fingers around it, letting the combination of metal and gemstone rest in his fist.

He placed the bottle of bourbon next to his bed and stretched out, that fucking mockery still clutched in his hand. With the silver setting cutting deep into his palm as he held it tighter, he finally let out the jagged sob he’d been trying to hold in from the beginning.

“Happy leap year, Cas,” he choked out.

Dean didn’t want to remember, but he couldn’t forget.

He’d get rid of the ring tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on Tumblr, I promise I don't bite:  
> SPN NSFW Multi-ship sideblog: [wingedwincest.tumblr.com](http://www.wingedwincest.tumblr.com)  
> Main blog: [castielsstarr.tumblr.com](http://www.castielsstarr.tumblr.com)


End file.
